There's No Story
by easternfront
Summary: Adam deserved more. Kurt deserved more. But there's no story.


"I don't feel you or rest of the Apples would feel comfortable with you here now. You already know what most of us think about this stu...about that."

The corridor was empty as he has thought it might be. It was an old statue crevice that had been kept when new walls have been built around the most recently renovated part of NYADA. He dropped his bag full of degree papers to the floor and leaned against the secret hiding place behind the double doors leading to recording studio.

Studio corridor was the place where he'd spent the first terrifying days in the school when he had started. The silence and low lighting had given him an escape from the stressful times.

Socially awkward brit who at the time was sleeping on his cousins sofa and wore dinner jackets almost everywhere. He had been homesick and shocked that he was actually in a school he wanted to get into. Everything was so strange and...American.

He'd learnt to cope and moved in with Tiff in the small flat just ten blocks away from the academy. It was hot on summers and terribly cold in winters, but it was just inside their budget and Tiff was the only Brit besides his cousin that he'd met in a long while. NY had slowly grown to him and he'd shed the jackets and moved on to jeans and t-shirts instead. Tiff had moved back to Bristol after the first year and he'd had four flatmates since. All american and incredibly fascinating people.

After the second year he'd met Kevin and by the end of third year, during the Holidays Kevin had broken his heart. Well it was more of an resignation over the fact that Kevin was very much in the closet to his Stock Exchange friends and hanging around with a male drama student from NYADA hadn't been in his plan to riches anyway.

Instead of dating he'd focused on the Apples and had made their rag tag bunch the most enjoyable experience after the break up for a long time. The Apples had become his passion and love child. Fighting over all student councils to get a performance slot in the Academy matinees and fundraising concerts. Dutifully they agreed to tone down their song selections, but kept a cheeky attitude that had led him to sit in the deans office more than once.

"See Mr. Crawford we need to show our backers that we create the new stage stars and not hip hop stars. Even in our clubs. By well all means continue because I've heard it helps some of our...less than typical students to fit in. But make it more...listenable."

Those talks in the office made the numbers just more and more clever, a mashups between Broadway classics and whatever was currently being played at a TOP 40 radio stations. Eventually the dean had given up or the complaints had stopped.

It did affect his studies. More than once he'd hear snickering in the vocal lessons if he'd sing a song intended for the Apples as rehearsal material or obvious lack of accolades from teachers.

By his fourth and last year he might have had a hidden secret wish to get a performance at the Winter Showcase, if not for him then for The Apples, but neither had happened. Still he had found himself sitting at the round concert space surrounded by the donors and other students. Dance, song, dance, song, song… One after another. Cassie, their soprano had her chance and some freshman girl everyone was talking about. He woke up from his haze after the audience started to chatter about Carmen's sudden oddities.

As he ushered the guests back inside after the intermission he was about to leave, when a scared and nervous voice stopped him by the doors. "Hi! I'm Kurt Hummel…" He closed the doors and leaned against the wall and let the beautiful notes just fill his mind.

He kicked the bag lying on the floor. He could still hear those crisp notes in his head. That beautiful haunting voice that sang, talked and laughed him through this spring. A cold winter and a spring that seemed to continue forever until it abruptly ended today. To those beautiful eyes smiling from a picture, standing next to someone who he knew was his first love.

Kurt had never shied away from talking about him. And Adam had never been tired of listening and holding hands. "I desperately want to be over him." "I desperately want…"

They both had wanted and desired touch and intimacy. Silent moments in the dark with just the street light lighting their skin. He had been holding tightly because it had been such a long time since he'd felt this kind of connection and Kurt because everything was new and and he wanted it to be new.

Adam closed his eyes and returned to their last night together. Kurt was straddling his lap with the blinds making stripes across his naked chest. His hair was falling over his eyes and his fingers were tracing Adam's jaw and chest. His eyes fluttered open and close, but never losing contact. His own hands were holding a tight grip on those narrow hips with his thumb tracing the outline of the bones.

"You're not ticklish at all, are you?"

"No." Kurt answered with a dark tone and leaned even closer.

His breath against his neck made Adam shudder. Next he felt Kurt pushing him down on the bed and rested his entire weight on him.

"I'm not ticklish."

"Not even from here?" He dragged his hands down to Kurt's backside and pushed them between the asscheeks. Kurt pushed up and putting his entire weight on his crotch hurt.

"No."

He'd pulled his hands away but Kurt had taken a hold of them:

"Like this."

In the morning they had laid naked on his bed and just watched each other. Silently listening to the city waking up. Holding hands and smiling. Phone's had sparked alive and his roommate had banged cupboards and doors. Kurt rolled on top of him and kissed him slowly on the nose and lips.

"I'm going home tonight." Kurt's eyes had filled with tears. Several of them had dropped to Adam's cheeks and rolled off as it was his own tears.

"You'll come back to me."

Kurt had never answered. Finn was buried and Kurt came home. But not the Kurt that had left that morning.

He was flying to London tomorrow. He had to leave and no one was going to beg him to stay.


End file.
